The Lost Princess of Orb
by CS Fitzgerald
Summary: When the dark shadow of revolution falls upon the house of the Hibikis, rumor spreads in the kingdom that the royal family has died. Ten years later, with the help of two con-artists, a young orphan afflicted with amnesia pretends to be the lost Princess of Orb to collect a reward beyond their wildest imagination, and embarks on a journey of self-discovery and love.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:** When the dark shadow of revolution falls on the house of the Hibikis, rumor spreads in the kingdom that the royal family has died. Ten years later, with the help of two con-artists, a young orphan afflicted with amnesia pretends to be the lost Princess of Orb to collect a reward, and embarks on a journey of love and self-discovery.

**Author's Note:** Inspired by the Fox 1999 Film, "Anastasia."

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Gundam Seed and/or Gundam Seed Destiny.

* * *

**Prologue**

The moon rose high as darkness begun to fall over the bustling Capitol City of Orb, but no stores or shops were planning on closing that night. Amidst the metropolis' unusual calm, there was a silent frequency of frenzied elation which was only discernible to its citizens, an excitement that was sprinkled throughout the snow-covered roads and cobble-stone streets, winding around lampposts and traffic lights and bouncing traverse at each and every roof beneath the inky-black curtain of golden stars.

At the heart of the city, traffic was a jumbling mess, packed with dozens of horse-drawn carriages and automobiles that carried the arriving guests, most of whom had traveled from distant, far-off lands just to celebrate the momentous occasion. From the main road, they all turned to their right, where a pair of impossibly tall wrought-iron gates reaching as high as the heavens had been opened to allow them into a wide driveway. Continuing the straight drive, the guests were soon in awe as the most handsome castle grew out of the darkness, their lights glinting against the palace's large diamond-paned windows. As they exited their rides and stepped into the treacherous cold, the servants quickly ushered them inside, where the ball of the century was already taking place.

But there was one guest that was currently without an invite. Although it was forbidden, Athrun Zala ran into the golden hall, gracefully moving around the fat diplomats and their beautiful, but ornamental wives, as he took a generous bite of an apple he snatched out of a bowl before it had been taken out to the tables. Luckily, the cook was too preoccupied with some burned fish inside the kitchen, and the rascally servant boy took his only opportunity to escape his duties and catch a glimpse of the Royal Family at the 300th anniversary of the Hibiki bloodline.

He couldn't believe his eyes - there were hundreds of guests here tonight, all dancing together in perfect time with their impeccably dressed partners and their pairs to their lefts and their rights. His eyes momentarily widened, lost in the sheer beauty of the rich grandeur, until he heard a small girl's giggle emerge above the din of the music, footsteps, and conversing crowd. Wiping the juice of the apple off on the sleeve of the potato sack he wore, he focused his ears on the noise and his emerald eyes redirected themselves to find its source.

Climbing up the carpeted stairs as fast as she could, the Princess of Orb, Cagalli Hibiki ran to the throne, a paper decorated with black and red ink in her small, clumsy hands. Athrun couldn't quite see what it was that was on the page, but he could tell that it was a painting, not a very good one at that, of the royal family. And waiting for her to join them was that very same family: her twin brother, the Prince, Kira; the Queen, Lady Via, and the most important person of the evening, his Royal Majesty, the King of Orb, Ulen Hibiki.

Her eyes lit up as she finally reached them and she handed the King the drawing. Like a father should, or so the orphan had always imagined, King Ulen laughed with great mirth and pressed the drawing to his chest, showing a token of gratitude. In return, he picked his laughing daughter up, placed her on his lap, and reached into his pocket, pulling out an elaborately decorated gold and emerald box, round in shape and baroque in nature. His children gasped in delight as the King held it in his hands.

"For us?" Cagalli asked in wonder. "Is it a music box?"

"Why yes, it is," King Ulen answered, impressed at her observation. "Now look." He took off his necklace, which had a necklace hanging on it, and placed it in the keyhole, turning it. The music box unlocked and he lifted up the heavy lid, revealing a miniature King and Queen preparing to waltz against a breathtaking backdrop of the sumptuously decorated Golden Hall. It started to play a beautiful song, a familiar melody that they immediately recognized as the one their parents often sang to them before bed.

"It plays our lullaby!" Kira whispered happily, intent on keeping the song a secret.

Their father nodded and smiled. "I want you to hold on the key, okay, Cagalli?" Ulen said, placing the necklace on his daughter's neck. "Only when you two are together, can you two play the family's song. And no matter what happens to me and your mother, you two must always stay together.'' Happily, he sang, "_On the wind, cross the sea, hear this song and remember_…"

The children joined in, giggling, and then the three sang, "_Soon you'll be home with me, once upon a December…"_

Her voice filled the air, and for a child with his nothing to his name, Athrun closed his eyes and allowed himself to dream. He dreamed of many things – like what his mother looked like, who his father might have been, how it would be to have toys instead of pans and plates in the kitchen. But mostly, he dreamed of what it would be like to be allowed to talk to the little golden haired girl; this angel, glistening and shining with the most expensive jewels on her neck which, to him, were dull in comparison to the wide brown eyes that danced with warmth.

He was a boy, _a child_, a young one, and had no idea what beauty is. There had been no beauty in his life and there would probably be none either. Still,he knew one constant, one truth above all truths: she _was _beautiful.

But before she had a chance to notice that he existed, his dream was snatched away from him. "_Athrun!_" A harsh voice called, causing every muscle in the young boy's body to freeze, "Athrun, how many times do I need to tell you? Your place is in the _kitchen, not out there!_" Arms that were stronger that they should've been grabbed the weak kitchen boy from behind, lifting him into the air. The lean forearms cut into his soft sides, squeezing his ribcage and making him struggle for breath. Immediately, he dropped his apple from the force that the cook grabbed him with, and while he was swung around, he gazed longingly at the life that would never be his. Despite his pleading and cries of protest, the cook carried him back from the golden halls and the joyful waltz music to the panic and filthiness of the kitchen.

There, in the spice pantry, the cook threw him upon the ground. Athrun, disgruntled, gave a short yelp as his forehead skidded on the dusty floor. Even through the pantry walls, they could still hear the festive waltz music, though it drowned out all the conversations between the nobles. Almost instantaneously the cook, his master, scolded him with his foul, raspy voice. The young boy cowered against the floor, bowed over as if asking desperately for forgiveness, peeking upwards to check to see if his master was unbuckling his belt to use as a whip. To his relief, the cook merely shouted at him this time. Though Athrun knew he had been saving from his usual lashings only because there was a grand party in the palace, he still felt a little more at ease, especially when the cook told him to gather certain spices for a poultry platter and left him in the pantry, slamming the door shut.

Standing up, the young boy brushed the dust off of his ragged servant's clothes and wiped the dirt that had seeped into his forehead. Sticking his tongue out childishly at the door, he turned to the shelves stocked full of spices. Selecting quite a few, he began to sweep them into his thin, bony arms, muttering incomprehensible unhappy thoughts under his breath. "One day, he'll see," Athrun grumbled. "I'll be richer than anyone here." As he piled the glass jars on top of one another, he found his feet clumsily sliding across the floor in a mock waltz, as close to the _one-two-three_ of the music as he could get. Really, he wasn't good at it. It didn't matter though; in his mind he was a noble, a royal that could marry the Princess even, and he could ignore how his socked feet swept the dust up in clouds from the floor.

Then, suddenly, without rhyme, reason, or warning, the joyous waltz music abruptly stopped and so did his feet. Athrun's head turned to the pantry door, mouth open in confusion. He could hear the voices of various maids and servants murmuring to each other worriedly. There was something different in the way they spoke and he knew there was only one explanation -something had happened.

Letting his curiosity get the best of him, he dropped the glass jars on the floor in his rush out the door. Using his small size to his advantage, he once again wove in and out of the crowd, moving between the still servants, keeping close to the wall to avoid attention. Snaking this way and that, he could see the happy moment he had witnessed mere moments ago had been ruined, replaced with one of chaos and disorder as a collective gasp from the dancers could be heard throughout the room.

The golden hall fell silent and the sea of guests parted as an ominous figure walked through. People became rooted in their place, unable to move in shock or fear as they all recognized the man to be Muruta Azrael. Once thought to be a holy man, Muruta had been branded as a fraud and exiled from the Kingdom. However, their reactions only seemed to propel him forward, as he crushed a dropped champagne glass underneath his foot and continued his confident stride towards the King, who stood alone before him, ever firm and protective of his family.

"How dare you return here?" King Ulen asked angrily, his fists shaking in rage.

Muruta feigned a pained look. "Is that anyway to talk to a man you once called a brother?"

"That was a long time ago, before I realized just how vile of a creature you are," King Ulen screamed, his booming voice echoing through the silent room. "We aren't brothers anymore. You are nothing but a traitor to me and my people. Now, get out of my house while I'm still giving you the chance, Azrael. You can be certain that this is the last of act kindness my kingdom will afford you."

Muruta shook his head, laughing. "You think you can banish me again?" Suddenly, his face grew very serious, his voice dangerously low, his blue eyes brewing with hatred. There was a fire in them that had burned its way through his mind, poisoning his sanity and his reason. A fire that this man had lit by himself with false speeches of greatness and valor. With lies of honor and righteousness, of icy logic and insane ideals, lies that so many people – more people that should have –believed. "We both know I gave you everything – everything! But what did you give me in return? Nothing. The Hibiki rule ends tonight. The throne needs a new king, my friend." He looked past the King, back to where his family was, his eyes resting on each of them. "Mark my words - you and your family will regret what you've done to me!"

"Guards, seize this raving lunatic!" King Ulen demanded. But before the Imperial Guards could advance, a brick shattered the glass of a window in the palace, eliciting screams and shrieks from hundreds. Without a warning, the door was broken down, and a crowd of rebel soldiers with rifles emerged, storming their way inside, permanently silently those who futilely tried to oppose them. Following their orders, round after round, they fired at the Imperial Guards, enjoying how the royal blue uniforms of the men turned crimson before they even had time to reach for their weapons.

There were more high pitched screams that followed, and more people, guests and guards alike, who fell to the bullets of steel that pierced their skin. The twins could feel their heart being wrenched from their chests, knowing their friends and family were being murdered in front of them and there was nothing they could do. Cagalli and Kira _reached out to their parents instinctively - they had to do something, they had to fight, they had to save them._ "No, don't come closer!" Queen Via demanded, desperately hugging them before letting them go. "You can't stay here, children. You need to run!"

"But what about you and father?" Cagalli asked, her eyes welling with the tears.

The King kneeled down to look to wipe away the tears that had formed and placed his other hand on her trembling shoulders. "Don't cry, Princess. This is my fault, I trusted that man. I gave him power and I created a monster. Now, the time has come for me to pay for my sins," King Ulen explained, trying his best to keep his voice steady. "Know that I have always loved you." He leaned forward and kissed each of his children on the forehead, his final farewell. "Goodbye."

She shut her eyes, tears leaking out, shaking her head. "No, father! We won't leave you!"

"There's no other choice. You two are this kingdom's last hope," King Ulen said, getting up as he placed the music box in her hands. "Just remember what I said – you to must always stay together." He then looked at his son, who knew what had to be done. Not wasting the little time they had left, Kira grabbed his sister's arm and dragged her with him. She struggled under his grip and tried fighting him off, but he was much stronger and he wouldn't let her go. So, she had no choice but to follow, as they moved past the crowd swarming around them, careful not to trip over the dozens of lifeless corpses on the floor.

Unnoticed by the two, Athrun had been hiding in the secret servant passageways in the wall. He opened the secret door into the room and saw the two trying to escape. Without thinking, the boy ran out of his hiding place and pulled at the Prince's collar. "Come this way, now!" He demanded hurriedly. "Out the servants' quarters!" There was a crisp, authoritative edge to his voice despite the youthful timber it held. Without a second thought or revulsion to his lesser status, they listened to his orders, and the two children scrambled into the narrow corridors. A soft thud hit the floor as Athrun pushed the royals in. Just as he was about to close the door, the girl suddenly turned around and her face appeared inches away from his, panic lacing her amber eyes. He had never noticed their color before – he had always thought they were brown.

"My music box!" Cagalli cried, grabbing on to his arm as he was brought back to reality. "I dropped it! Please! We have to go back and get it!"

"No. There's no time left," Athrun hissed, pushing her hand away. "Go, _go_!"

The boots of the rebel soldiers roared closer. He felt his breath quicken with the fear in the air, like smoke from a fire settling in his lungs. He bit his lip to stop from crying as the hand of the Prince grabbed her's as they disappeared, fading into the corridor. One more flash of her amber eyes hit his, and Athrun slammed the door shut, turning around. His heart was now rivaling every fast-paced waltz he had ever heard, and he was breathing so hard he feared he would choke from lack of air. He could hear the boots were a few feet way now and he heard someone call out, "In here!" The doors to the room bent inwards from a livid slam. It happened again. And again, and again, until one crash splintered the doors as several burly, armed men poured into the room.

"Where are they, boy?" A soldier demanded, looking around the room. "Tell us and you'll be allowed to live in new and prosperous rule of King Azrael."

Amber eyes still in his mind, Athrun scrambled at a flower pot – the closest thing to him - on a nearby table."I would rather die, traitors!'' He screamed. Grasping the pot, he hurled it at the man's face with as much force and strength as his weak muscles could muster_. _He contorted his face into a snarl, an expression that lasted until the man easily brushed away the remnants of the flower pot and raised the butt of his rifle. Darkness cloaked the young boy's world as the riffle cracked down on his head, splitting his skull just above his left temple. He collapsed onto the ground, his body landing on whatever it was that the Princess had initially come to this room for.

If he'd died, at least he'd die knowing that she was safe.

* * *

The children ran out of the royal palace and onto the frozen river beyond their backyard. Even though their legs felt like collapsing, they somehow pushed onward; the ice solid beneath each footfall, their breaths coming faster and deeper in their tiny, aching chests. If they just got at the end of the river, then they could reach the train station and go anywhere in the world. Far away from the revolution, they would be safe.

"I can't do it anymore!" Cagalli cried, quickly becoming tired of running on the slippery and cold ice. She didn't want to run anymore. All she wanted to do was give up, to go back and die with her mother and father and all of her friends. To give up and accept defeat.

"We're almost there!" Kira answered, pointing in front of him. And he was right – in the near distance, there it was; the station. Their ticket to freedom.

Kira rushed up the stairs and onto the platform. The last train was beginning to pull away, so he called out to her. "Cagalli, hurry! Hurry!" The pair continued running, and he gasped as he was pulled onto the train by the help of one of his loyal subjects while his sister was left still running to catch up.

"Kira!"

"Cagalli!" He yelled, extending his hand as far as he could. "Take my hand! Hold on to my hand!"

"Don't let go!" Cagalli pleaded. But the train was moving too fast, and their hands were wrenched apart. Thrown off balance, she fell back onto the platform, hitting her head on the concrete ground and lying unconscious as the busy crowd of commuters took no notice to her.

"Cagalli!" Kira cried, trying to jump off the train. The other passengers held back the small boy from jumping to what would surely be his death, and he thrashed and cried and screamed as he was forced to watch his sister, possibly the only family he had left in this world, get swallowed by the sea of people, growing smaller and smaller in the distance.

Until he could no longer see her at all.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Much longer than the first chapter of my story, I want to thank you if you read all of this and liked it. It was only so long because it was a prologue – the first pivotal movement of the story considering it was the fall of an entire kingdom – and I predict my other chapters will not be like this. Anyways, please review if you want to see the next chapter, which will be a great many years in the future, eleven to be exact, to see the "prosperous" rule of King Azrael, and to find out about the fate of Prince, the Princess and the Servant Boy who loved her enough to sacrifice his life for her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** Inspired by the Fox 1999 Film, "Anastasia."

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Gundam Seed and/or Gundam Seed Destiny.

* * *

**Part I: The Grey Ghosts of the Past **

Ten years could feel like an lifetime under the new rule of Orb.

Springs and summers were always fleeting, gone much too soon like a warm smile or hot, fresh bread. The frigid fingers of an icy wind caressed the leathery necks of the populace as early as mid-September and the winter silence feigned peace in the midst of a vicious war that pitted man against hunger. In the frozen streets of the Capitol City, where the very air smelled of factory soot and lost hopes and broken dreams, and the ash-gray of the slush along the uneven sidewalks seemed to match the sky, the constant grumbling of stomachs were always victorious over even the strongest of men.

The strongest of women, however, was another story indeed. She had no memory of her life before she awakened in the orphanage ten years ago and all she had known was this gloom and filthy snow that came along with King Azrael's rule. The vague suggestions of who she had been were very slippery, oily things that constantly slid in and around each other, sometimes twisting and merging into something that was almost recognizable before they danced away again into the black clouds of her mind, mocking her. For years, Yula had tried hard to forget that she was trying to remember. It was much easier to accept this was her life; that hunger and cold and debilitating want was all there ever was. And that it would all be over today.

She stood where she was for a few heartbeats, squinting into the darkness between the rotting wooden planks barring the doorway into a palace the size of a small town. The pristine courtyard at her back stretched wide and white and seemed to be as large as the center of the Capitol City itself. The world around her was silent as the grave as it held its breath, watching. Waiting. Her fingers were numb and tingling, but she knew it didn't have much to do with the holes in her scratchy, woolen gloves.

She couldn't remember what had happened to her. She had no idea what history had been snatched away from her. Up until this day, until this very moment, uncertainty had been in her every heartbeat, pumping in acidic cycles through her veins for as long as she could remember. For the most part, she was a smart girl. She had learned how to survive on her own, and quickly. But she knew with crippling clarity that what she was about to do was the single stupidest act she'd ever committed in her life, and if she got caught trespassing by one of the Imperial Guards, she'd be sentenced to death.

But it didn't matter. In the murkiness of the uncertainty that was her life, a chance meeting with a withered old woman at the train depot had made several things painfully clear:

One, the dreams that had haunted her for so long could never tell her who she was, no matter how much she wanted them to. Two, her necklace, which she had guarded with her life, was the only link to who she was before. It had whispered "Together, Always, in the Plants" in solid gold during the lonely nights of the orphanage; words that had been engraved into her mind for as long as she could remember, despite the fact that she couldn't recognize the voice that echoed those very words. True enough, those words delicately written on her blue-flowered necklace gave her heart a spring of hope. She might have been lost for the past decade, but she knew the city in the far east was the key - to herself, to everything. And three, a pair of conmen that were living here in the forbidden palace of the old royals could get her there.

So here she was, half-numb and shivering, perched upon the precipice of the miserable existence she knew and ready to leap headfirst into a swirling abyss of dangerous unknowns. She could be in the fishing village near the orphanage now, maybe huddled in front of the cozy fire of a local pub and gnawing on some boney fish bought with her day's wages from the fish factory. But this decision was more important than the hunger clawing at her stomach. The not knowing was eating her alive from the inside, slowly hollowing out her bones. If she stayed in the orphanage, in this city, there would be nothing left. She'd be an empty shell, a gray ghost of a woman with no hopes or dreams, one of the millions in the city who drift to work every icy morning in the dirty fog. She would cast no shadows on life at all.

Yula bit her wind-chapped bottom lip, drawing a bit of blood in determination. She would die before she let that happen. If there was any chance of learning something - anything - about where she came from, about who she was, it was here, contained within these dilapidated walls.

That was it, then. In the likelihood the two famed conman of the Capitol City weren't here - and she had to admit, it was a long shot, anyway - it was still as safe a place as any. There was bound to be something like old sheets or coats unfit for wear that she could bundle up in to keep an arctic death at bay until morning. And if the men were here and couldn't help her, she would just have to help herself.

It was now or never.

* * *

"Just so you know, this is all your fault, Mwu."

Mwu La Fllaga paused, a heavy forkful of a greasy meat dumpling halfway to his open mouth. He raised one blonde eyebrow at the young man glaring at him from across the room. "How is this my fault? I did my job. I got the guards to look the other way so we could stay here; I got the girls to show up." A long-suffering smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he added, "So what if some of them were nearly a century old."

The young man punched his hands deep into the pockets of his brown trousers and started to pace the room, making a little track from the low table littered with empty liquor bottles, to the ice frosted windows that stretched from ceiling to floor, to the gargantuan fireplace shimmering with heat. It had been a long time since he'd paced. It had been a long time since he felt this trapped and helpless, and it made him angry."Yes, it is," the young man hissed. "What did you do, post flyers at the local asylum? Every one of them were certifiable nut jobs. Completely insane!"

Mwu laughed and polished off what was left on his plate with more enthusiasm than the food deserved. After taking a long sip of the cheap red wine in his glass, he said, "But that's what we need, Athrun, don't you see? She can't be young, but she can't be too old either. She has to be teachable, but still dumb enough not to ask many questions.."

Athrun snorted and let his long legs carry him back to the table. He plopped down in the velvet high-backed chair across from his business partner and friend, crossing his arms over his chest. "We've been here for two months. That's two months we could have been doing real jobs, making money," he said, his tone simmering with irritation, "And now we've gone through every girl, and none of them, not even one of them, could pass as the Lost Princess. And if we can't collect the reward money, how the hell are we going to pay off the guards at the end of this month?"

Mwu shrugged and practically rumbled with a satisfied sigh, monumentally unconcerned as usual. "What we always do, of course," was his noncommittal reply.

_Yes_, Athrun thought as he looked away, into the bowels of the fireplace. _What we always do_. Lie, cheat, steal, swindle. Dabble in all seven of the deadly sins. At least he'd graduated from petty thievery, even though he'd been quite good at it. It would probably still be his occupation of choice if the older man hadn't thrust himself into his path all those years ago and saved him from a life on the streets. The heat in the enclosed room bloomed in a warm rush and Athrun had to remind himself once again that he would gladly take the sweat trickling down his back over the aching cold of the city outside any day.

Still, it was strange being here. His two front teeth had barely grown in the last time he called this place home, when the palace was alive and seething with light and sound, everywhere the glint of gold and the sweet smell of peppermint and pastries. He worked in the kitchen with many other servants as well as head cook, who used to beat him with a wooden spoon until his body was covered with bruises whenever he talked back. And then one day, it was all taken away, the life he had come to known and accept went up in flames.

Visions of the city patrol pounding his skull into bloody pulp with their heavy black boots had snowballed and begun to pick up the debris of memories he had been trying desperately to forget for years. He never spoke to anyone about what happened to her. He wasn't about to start thinking about that now.

It took years of drowning his demons in stolen vodka and lies to get them buried deep enough to not be disturbed in his waking hours. But they were not generous. He learned he could function during the day, however, in exchange, the ghostly bones of the skeletons he kept so carefully hidden reigned over the kingdom of his nightmares, ruling him from dusk till dawn. He accepted this. It was his punishment for always wanting more than he had.

He shouldn't have saved her. He should have never even dared to look her in the eye before that day. But the youngest daughter of the true King of Orb, with her single winking dimple in her left cheek and devilish grin, had him by the heart the moment she looked in his direction for the first time. They had barely spoken twice, but she was everything good in his life, even if she was a royal angel and he was kitchen trash. And he had that if he saved her, maybe, just maybe, she'd come back to him. But that was then.

He awoke from that endless, flaming night with a throbbing head and a small jeweled box still grasped in his small fingers. Sunlight streamed through the windows across his cheeks, its purity and warmth a sickening contrast to the horrors of blood and screams a few hours before. Crystalline amber eyes had been seared into his mind. He ran from those eyes, swearing he'd never come back to this palace of death. Yet, here he was.

Mwu turned back to the sulking Athrun. He reached over to pat his arm with his hand. "I think there was one girl who would have been passable."

Annoyed by the interruption of his train of thought, Athrun scowled up at him before he grabbed the wine and took a long drink straight from the bottle. "What?"

"The girl at the theater, the one with the large breasts and black hair. What was her name again?"

Athrun grimaced more from the memory than the bitterness of the wine. "_Meer?_ Jesus, Mwu, she had a face like a turtle. No amount of makeup would make the Prince believe his sister grew up to be that ugly or vile."

Chuckling low in his throat, Mwu retrieved the bottle before easing back in his seat, going back a little bit too far, the chair creaking dangerously beneath him. "Really?" He grinned smugly. "Well, she wasn't too ugly or vile to spend the night with me."

Athrun almost choked on his mouthful of wine. "Oh, god. What is wrong with you? You could be her father. Aren't you told old for that?"

Mwu merely shook his head and smirked, lacing his fingers over his stomach before he replied, "I am older, yes, but I'm not dead yet and man has needs. You're still young, Athrun - I hope you find a nice girl, believe me, but if you don't, like I have yet to do, you'll know what I mean one day."

Laughing in spite of himself, Athrun replied, "I hope I never have to learn to get past a face like that." And just like that, the tension between them had eased. Mwu had always known what to say to put things into perspective. When the moment passed into an easy silence once more, the older man's voice came quietly. "We will find her, kid. Don't you worry."

Athrun's jaw was set as his emerald eyes assessed a set so much like his own. They were not related, but Mwu was undoubtedly family. The unlikely pair had taken care of each other in worse times than these. "I wish I didn't have to. But I have to get out of this damned city - there's nothing left her for me."

The blonde smiled, understanding more than his young friend could ever realize. "I know."

Then there was a sudden noise, a distant thump, like something large had been knocked over in the opposite wing of the palace. Athrun frowned. "Did you hear something?"

He shook his head. "No."

With a sigh, Athrun stood and headed for the door, but not before pausing to assure himself that he had remembered to slip his hunting knife back into his boot.

* * *

Apparently, heavy wooden boards and rusty nails were no match for raw will. A few hesitant steps brought Yula into the thick shadows just beyond the palace doors. Pale rays of frigid sunlight reflected off the courtyard's blanket of snow and danced across the jagged edges of shattered glass that littered the floor, a graveyard of broken windowpanes. Her feet were silent and quick as she picked her way through them and made her way up the wide staircase, onto an expansive landing covered with ruined carpet the color of blood.

"Hello?" Yula called out, cringing as her hollow voice skittered up the faded walls, tangling in the cobwebs that draped nearly every surface like banners of dirty silk.

Silence swallowed her whole. She had to strain to hear past the heartbeat pounding at her eardrums, and beyond that there was a vacuum - no wind whistling through cracks, no soft groans of old wood settling in the cold. It was more than a little disquieting, really, the infinite sound of nothing. It was so substantial and complete it almost seemed like a solid mass, something to push through or drown in. It made the gentle squish of her boots on the damp carpet as she came to a halt sound like the roar of a waterfall.

She stood still for a moment, blinking into the darkness, letting her eyes adjust to the change in environment. Around her, the sprawling palace began to reveal itself in wary increments.

A filthy border of cracked, imported marble slowly emerging from the void, stretching beyond Yula's feet into places filled with secrets. Tattered drapes of heavy velvet hung limp and sickly against the cold, towering windows. Intricate carvings in wood and faded plaster curled in and out of every corner and twined around curvaceous doorways. They stood out in sad, crumbling relief against the peeling walls. Everything rested behind a delicate shroud of gray dust. She could see the particles drifting down from the air far above her head, settling on her coat like ashes.

It was difficult to ignore that she had already become saturated by the sweet, musky fragrance of decay. The scent had found her when she stepped over the threshold and had settled in her lungs and now every breath she took tasted of stale smoke and grief. She wanted to turn back, run away, but there was an aura that kept pulling her to the place, as if she knew it from a memory of a dream. So, she moved forward, determination propelling herself despite the shaking hands.

A journey up a grand set of stairs and Yula found herself at the entrance to a large room wide and so spacious that the townspeople could have gotten a space for themselves there, had it not been purposely made for elegant parties and balls of the ruling clan. Some of the silverware were still intact but left to dust as if the last supper had been postponed for a decade. Filled with tarnished treasures, there was tables still dressed in the celebratory linen that had become the final resting place for empty serving platters and drinking goblets, candelabras as tall as young men, gravy boats and fruit stands turned on their sides in repose.

Yula turned when she felt a sharp tingle at the base of her spine, something so close to fear that she whipped around to see if she was being followed - there was nothing. Only emptiness.

She turned back and tread deeper, drawn closer to the table, and the feeling grew and grew until she felt like she had been shot through with light. It was these things, these relics that had miraculously escaped the black market and the squalor of the city's streets. They were almost... _familiar_ somehow...

Even after she swore she wouldn't touch anything, one of those grimy silver platters found itself caught in her grip. She huffed and blew a ragged half moon in the dust. A distorted reflection blinked back at her and her memory stirred, disturbed by that prickling familiarity. Images swirled in her mind's eye, snapshots advancing and retreating in a swirling kaleidoscope before they condensed into a laughing man with a dark beard...a girl in a dress the color of powdered emeralds...

She blinked again and it was gone. It didn't return, even when she stared long enough into the warped metal to make her eyes burn and tried to will it back. Something like a choked sob took up residence in her chest.

She replaced the platter and backed away from the table, retreating into the cavernous hallway. Shivers assaulted her as she moved into what appeared to be the grand ballroom. The Golden Hall, as it had been known back then, was a universe unto itself where the light streamed freely through frosted windows that reached high as heaven, forming silver pools on a waxed floor scuffed by the dancing shoes of the idle wealthy.

The late royal family kept watch from their dull portraits along the walls, eyeing Yula as she descended the steps. This room had been the heart of the palace, pumping music and laughter through the vein-like hallways into every room and chamber. Yula could picture fine ladies in gowns that shimmered under the candlelight dripping down from crystal chandeliers, bejeweled butterflies of every hue that fluttered around handsome men in smart uniforms as they danced and smiled. All around her she felt the fleeting movements of the dead and forgotten.

Here, the air felt alive.

The residue of joys long past still hung in the air. Even the odor of decomposition here was different - decadent, deep and rich and flowery, like dried roses. When she closed her eyes, she could hear the notes of a soft waltz slinking along the moldings, the vaulted ceilings, easing over her skin like warm satin. She hadn't realized it, but she was dancing, arms wrapped around her body.

"_Hey_!" a voice called out, breaking the silence. "What are you doing in here?!"

Yula jumped like a frightened cat and whirled around at source of the male voice. It came from the upper landing of the staircase that led to where she stood, but whoever was yelling at her was still painted in shadow.

Instinct screamed, and she did what came naturally when fear shoved her hammering heart into her throat. She ran.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** Inspired by the Fox 1999 Film, "_Anastasia_." Bit disappointed at the lack of response for the story, as I feel like this is one of the better pieces I've written. But I didn't want to keep you waiting any longer.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Gundam Seed and/or Gundam Seed Destiny.

* * *

**Part II: A Conman's Plan**

"Hey!"

Athrun yelled again, tightly gripping the banister as he watched the girl turn and bolt for the opposite stairs. "God damn it, I said stop running away from me!" He easily took the wide steps three or four at a time as he bounded onto the ballroom floor after her. A few steps back, Mwu loyally followed behind him in pursuit.

He was possessive. He had no problem admitting it. No matter how merciless the memories that gnawed at him, all of the pivotal events in his life - the brittle moments of loneliness, even the brief, shattering joy of a royal smile meant only for him - all happened here. This palace was his, his own sanctuary, his own personal shrine to the past. Over the years, it might have been neglected, in ruins. But it was his to wallow in for as long as he saw fit.

It was because of this that he hated for the undesirable elements of the city to seep in, disturbing the serene calm with their loud rummaging and pillaging, and their bodies that smelled of urine and stale sweat. Usually, the cold threat of his knife's blade took care of any infestation problem.

When he discovered the girl, however, she had been dancing to a muted melody in the ballroom, her face relaxed and dreamy, completely alone save for the shadows that mimicked her movements on the walls. It would be ridiculous to suggest that Athrun was comfortable with pulling his knife out on a woman, let alone one so obviously mentally ill. But still, she had to go - he'd just very politely escort her out.

Unfortunately thought, as a man who made a living off of his silver tongue and quick wit, Athrun was quite unaccustomed to such strenuous activity. His heart was pounding and his lungs burned by the time he stumbled to a halt at the base of the second staircase, now more closely resembling a carpeted mountain. She was already at the peak and headed for the nearest hallway.

He had had enough. It would have been easier to just let her leave, but he wanted to make absolutely certain that she wasn't going to try and come back or reveal his grand hideout to the authorities. "Hey, stop! I said stop it! Just hold on a minute - hold on!"

She stopped, her back to him, and his words came like a barrage of barbed arrows once he caught his breath, punishing her for daring to breach his walls. "How did you get in here?" When he received no response, Athrun took several threatening steps towards her, up the stairs. "Did you hear what I said? Who the hell are you and why are you here?"

This time he observed her through narrowed eyes as she pivoted slowly in her worn out boots. Her chest heaved. Her mouth was slack as her eyes met his, a mix of fear and humiliation stamped onto her features. He blinked. "_Holy shit."_

The drifter was looking down her nose at him, and from his line of sight it appeared that she was cheek to cheek with the image of the Princess, forever imprisoned inside of her family's portrait. Cagall was smiling; this ragged girl was not. But he couldn't tell the difference between them.

He stared and stared for what could have been days, analyzing, comparing, searching for holes in the plan that was already knitting itself together inside of his head. A winded Mwu hustled up to his side. "Excuse me, kid," he wheezed politely at the intruder, ever the gentleman, but Athrun's sudden grip on his arm brought him up short.

"Mwu, in the name of all that's holy, please tell me you see what I see," Athrun whispered. He couldn't take the chance that desperation was making him hallucinate. His wide eyes still hadn't left her face.

She was glaring at them now. Her shoulders lifted and dropped as if saying, _what the hell are you looking at?_

Mwu removed his spectacles from their perch atop his head and adjusted them on the bridge of his nose. His sharp intake of breath was all the confirmation Athrun needed. "Oh my God," the older man breathed in awe, his hand clasping his partner's shoulder and squeezing. "She is perfect. She is the one."

And she was, more so than either had ever dared to hope.

She wasn't exactly pretty, not with the deep hollows in her cheeks and hair like yellow-colored straw and dingy shadows smudged under her eyes. But that didn't matter at all. Not when those eyes were the color of salvation – a clear, deep, striking, perfect Hibiki amber.

It was as if the God Athrun felt had been absent his entire life had suddenly reached down from on high with a slap on the back for a job well done.

"Are you Athrun?" She finally asked, breaking the silence. Her voice was mellow and sweet and had a husky quality that made him think of smoked honey.

He raised an eyebrow and shrank the wide gap of air and space between them, moving to stand right in front of her on the landing. "Perhaps. That all depends on who's looking for him."

"My name is Yula," the blonde proclaimed in an attempt at an official tone, raising her stubborn little chin into the air. "I need travel papers." Athrun smirked at this. The hard glint in her eye told him she was far too coherent to be crazy. Strange, yes, but definitely not crazy.

She leaned toward him, adding in a conspiratorial undertone, "They say you're the man to see..."

Her rambling continued as she whispered something about not being able to tell him who had supplied that information, but Athrun barely heard her. He was too busy trying to fit his new project into Her Royal Highness, Princess Cagalli's gilded mold. So far, he could tell ths girl's hair wasn't long enough and much too shabby and dull. He tilted his head and caught sight of her fingernails. They were filthy, broken and dirty. Her lips were dry and cracked. And she was much too thin. He couldn't help but wonder when she had her last meal.

"Hey, what - why are you circling me? Were you a vulture in another life?" She hissed with as much venom as she could muster. Her forehead had wrung itself into a frown. She gave him a black look and put her hands on her hips - at least, where her hips should be. It was difficult to tell what was what under the patched sack of a coat she was wearing.

Athrun crossed his arms over his chest, a slow grin spreading across his cheeks. So she had some personality, too. "I'm sorry, Yuna - "

"It's Yula," she corrected. She poked him hard in the chest with her finger. "Yu - la."

He held his hands up in surrender, all humble apologies. "Right. _Yula._ Sorry...it's just that you look an awful lot like..." He trailed off and gestured vaguely at the Princess behind them. Cagalli looked over her shoulder at the painting, then back at him, eyes wide and blank.

Athrun glanced back at Mwu, who had remained mute and observant during their exchange. He winked, urging his young friend on with a silent _"work your magic"._

"Never mind," Athrun recovered quickly, smooth as polished marble. "Now, you said something about travel papers?" It didn't really matter, but he wanted to start with small talk, to take his time. He could already tell he was going to need to lay it on thick to make his case. He'd promise to get her anywhere she wanted to go, even if he had to carry her there on his back - whatever it took to convince her to play the lead in the biggest con in history. His life depended on it.

She took a deep breath. "Uh, yes. I need to go to December City."

Athrun stared again. "What?"

Sighing, she looked at him like he was a first-class imbecile. "December City. You know, the city? In the Plants?" She wanted to go to the December City. As in the Plants. As in the location of His Royal Highness, the Prince, Kira Hibiki, the only living blood relative of a Princess he'd been planning to package and sell to the man for years.

He was instantly suspicious. This had to be some elaborate hoax the universe had contrived for its own amusement. He'd had to claw and sweat and toil through his entire life and _now_ his future gets handed to him on a silver platter? It couldn't be that easy. "Let me ask you something - Yula, was it? Is there a last name that goes with that?"

For the first time since the beginning of their conversation, Yula's eyes shifted away from his. She stiffened and clutched her fists tightly. "I...I don't have one - I mean, I _do_, but I don't know what it is."

"You don't know your parents, child?" Mwu asked at last, positioning himself on the stairs a few steps below them. The eyes behind his lenses were glassy with sympathy, but Athrun couldn't tell if the emotion was real or not.

She looked at Mwu then and answered, her voice like steel. "No. A lovely old lady named Myrna found me wandering the streets and took me in when I was just a child. But then she got really sick and when she eventually died, I was put in St. Minervas. You know, the orphanage?"

He knew the place all too well, and winced internally at the mention of the abominable orphanage situated along the frayed edge of the city, where the neighborhood scum collected and people burned their rancid trash in the streets. Rumors caught up with him years ago about the things that went on there, many of them unspeakable.

He cleared his throat and Yula turned back to him, obviously annoyed with the conversation in general. "And before that, before the lady found you - "

"I said I don't remember, okay?" Yula snapped, eyes crackling with a fiery orange flame. "I know it sounds crazy, and I know you probably think I'm a lunatic, but -" she broke off, swallowed, closed her eyes, opened them again. "Look, it doesn't matter. You don't know me; I don't know you. Or _you_, for that matter," she added, cutting her eyes at Mwu. He only smiled, apparently impressed. "The only thing you need to know is that I need to go to December City. So can you help me or not?"

If the city was all she wanted, Athrun thought, he could give her that easily enough. "Uh, we sure would like to. Oddly enough we're going there ourselves." He almost laughed out loud when her face lit up like a brand new morning. She would do anything to be on the first train out of this city and onto her new life.

Almost as if on cue, Mwu slipped Athrun three expired tickets to the Orb Circus. He was very careful to reveal only the wrong side of the soiled paper to the girl's s starving eyes as he said, "I actually have three tickets here...but unfortunately the third one is for her." Her gaze followed his to the painting before she rolled her eyes.

"Cagalli." It wasn't a question.

"Yes."

"She's dead." She lapsed, then narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Or do you know something I don't?"

Mwu chuckled, the sound like soft thunder in the silence that swirled around them. "This was never confirmed as her body was never found. No one truly knows what happened to her."

"Hmm." Athrun crossed his feet at the ankle and carefully arranged his face into a mask of thoughtfulness. "You said you couldn't remember what happened to you, right?"

"So?"

"So, she was around eight or nine years old when she disappeared."

Yula cocked an unkempt eyebrow. "Are you going somewhere with this?"

"You _do_ kind of resemble her, you know. Around the same age, same eyes...same chin..."

"She even has her mother's hands," Mwu supplied.

Yula threw her head back and erupted with laughter. "Are you serious? You think that I'm the Lost Princess of Orb?"

"Look, all I'm saying is I've seen thousands of girls all over the country and _not one_ of them looks as much like the Royal Princess as you. I mean, can you honestly prove that you're _not_ her?" It was taking a lot of effort to remain calm and nonchalant about the whole thing, but Athrun didn't want to frighten her off. He couldn't give in to the urge to just throw her over his shoulder and be done with it.

"Come with me," Mwu said kindly, taking her hand and leading her to the portrait of the Prince. "We are going to reunite the Princess Cagalli with her brother...in December City."

"You're making this up," Yula accused. "Anyways, I've heard about you two. The whole Capitol City has. You're just a bunch of thieving conmen, not to be trusted."

"Why is this so hard to believe?" Athrun pressed as he walked over to join them. "You don't know what happened to you..."

"No one knows what happened to her either," Mwu joined in, waiting for Athrun to springboard off his comment.

"You're looking for family in Paris," said Athrun.

"And her only family is in Paris," Mwu finished, squeezing her hand.

But Yula was still incredulous. She looked from one to the other before turning on her heel to go back down the stairs, roughly elbowing Athrun out of the way. "Both of you are insane. I'll just see myself out, thanks."

Before his brain could process the movement, Athrun's hand reached out to grab her arm. It was like clutching a warm bone. There couldn't be an ounce of fat on her body with arms like that... "Wait a minute, just hear us out - "

She snatched her arm out of his grasp, her temple throbbing and her lips forming a grim line before she growled, "Okay, one - you don't ever put your hands on me. Ever. Two, do I look like the fucking heir to the throne to you?" She gestured angrily at her coat, which was the color of muddy puddles and was torn at random intervals. "Three, even _if_ I decided to lose my mind and agree with all this, what guarantee do I have that you're not lying?"

Although it was wrong, the lie was out of his mouth before he could stop. "There's no sinister ulterior motive here. Just the knowledge that we finally brought peace to a boy who has spent the last ten years of his life thinking that his entire family died the night of the revolution. And I've always wanted to see December City in the winter. I hear it's lovely this time of year."

Mwu coughed. "Uh, Athrun - "

"So you're telling me there's no reward? No money? Nothing?"

Her eyes bored into his. He could feel them burrowing for truth. But they wouldn't find it. "Yeah, that's exactly what I'm telling you. There might have been years ago, but not now. Not when everyone's given up hope that the Princess was alive. At least, we haven't heard differently, right Mwu?"

Though his eyebrows had nearly hit his hairline, Mwu shook his head. "Yes. It's true. All of it."

She bit her lip, deep in thought. His stomach churned as every second passed; he could even feel the warm prickle of sweat preparing to escape the skin of his upper lip. He hadn't had to work this hard in years. And when it became apparent she was still floundering in indecision, he hit her with his best shot.

"Listen, I have no reason to lie to you. I can't even begin to tell you how bad I want to get out of this godforsaken country. You do, too. I can see it in your eyes. But what I _can_ tell you is with this crazy government, you'll never get out on your own. We're the only ones who can help you within three hundred miles of this city, and if you want a ticket, you're gonna have to trust me."

He focused his entire being on projecting the image of an earnest young man with nothing but charity in his heart. He could tell she was softening, he could see it in the way her whole body relaxed. He was so close...so close...

"Yula," Athrun murmured, begging her with his jewel-like emerald eyes, "we're not going to hurt you. I know you don't have faith in yourself, but we do - I do. All I'm asking is that you have a little faith in me." When she stayed silent, he offered her a small smile before he turned away. "Let's go, Mwu. At least we tried."

When the pair was out of earshot, Mwu took his protégé to task in a fierce whisper. "What are you doing? Why didn't you tell her about our brilliant plan?"

"Simple. All she wants to do is leave," Athrun replied reasonably. "Why give away a third of the reward money?"

Mwu wagged a finger at him. "I'm telling you, we are walking away too soon..."

"Relax, old man. I can read a woman's body language better than you can and I can you tell I've got it all under control. We just need to walk a little slower."

Any second and they would have her.

"Athrun - "

"Wait for it..."

Three...two...one...

"Athrun, wait!"

_Hook, line and sinker._

When they turned back, Yula was flying down the steps to meet them on the ballroom floor. "Did you call me?" He asked with feigned innocence.

"Okay. I don't remember anything about my past, so there is a possibility - a really remote possibility - that I could be this guy's sister, right?"

He nodded his agreement. "Mh-hmm. Go on."

"Right, so I go to December City with you guys, and we meet him."

"That would be correct."

"And if I'm not his sister….that is, if I'm not Cagalli, then he would know right away and then it's all just an honest mistake."

"And, if you _are_ the Lost Princess of Orb," Mwu offered, reeling her in to be gutted, "you'll finally have what you've been searching your whole life for: a family. A place where you belong."

"He's right," Athrun agreed. He was grinning so hard it was giving him a headache. "Either way, it gets you to December City. To a new life away from this hell." He stuck out his hand.

She hesitated before she allowed their eyes to connect. The hope she must have felt made the dark sapphire shade lighten slightly to that of a cloudless sky at twilight. Athrun felt oddly exposed, like she could see just how black his soul was if she looked hard enough.

"What the hell, right?" Yula sighed after an eternity, and she finally shook his hand to seal their agreement. She was about to bubble out of her boots with excitement. She bobbed up and down, looking expectantly from Athrun to Mwu and back again. "To December City, we go!"

Athrun couldn't help but break out into a smile. Very soon, ten million _rubles_ would be in his hands, one for every lie he had ever told.


End file.
